


Growing Pains

by pikestaff



Category: Warcraft - All Media Types, World of Warcraft
Genre: Blood Elves, Fluff, Gen, I have no idea how canon Astalor being in Rommath's class is but hey this is just for fun, Now featuring baby Rommath!, Tiny Magister Rommath, Warcraft babies they'll make your dreams come trruuuueee, characters as kids
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-13
Updated: 2016-01-13
Packaged: 2018-05-13 19:17:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5714044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pikestaff/pseuds/pikestaff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hundreds of years before Rommath was Grand Magister, he had to deal with a very difficult problem indeed: elf puberty.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Growing Pains

Rommath was not remotely happy as he peered in the mirror that morning. He had, for the most part, accepted the fact that he was growing up. He was in fact rather fond of the way he'd grown a few inches taller just over the summer. Sure, there had been a few less than ideal incidents, including one involving a particularly stubborn pimple that had decided to surface inside a nostril, but for the most part he had but one complaint.

That complaint was his eyebrows.

Yes, over the last few weeks they had finally decided to grow out, and unfortunately that process was taking its sweet time. His eyebrows now extended _just_ past his face-- mostly-- oh, who was he kidding. They had no idea what they were doing. Some strands stuck out long and stubborn, others continued to cluster together near his eyes, and for the most part the entire mess just looked bushy and absurd. Making it worse was their color: jet black, just like his hair, and as such particularly noticeable. This all would have been merely slightly irritating if not for the fact that today was the first day of school. _Why?_ He thought to himself. _Why couldn't this have happened on the_ last _day of school?_

He fussed with his eyebrows for a few minutes longer before sighing.  He couldn't do a thing with them.  He'd just have to accept his fate.

His father approached now.  Normally a servant would be the one seeing them off, but this was his first day back after the summer, at a new school no less, and Rommath's father had always been fond of his children.  So he would see them off personally today.  He stood at the door of his youngest son's bedroom, dressed in the violet robes of an archmage of the Kirin Tor, his raven colored hair spilling behind him.  "You're going to be late," he said.

Rommath squeezed his eyes shut.  Normally he didn't like to show his father any sign of weakness, but today he was frustrated.  "My eyebrows are impossible," he said.

"Oh?" His father smiled.  "Impossible is only what we allow it to be."

His father was fond of phrases and sayings like that, and Rommath usually didn't quite _get_ them, because they tended to be too abstract for him.  This was no exception.  Rather dolefully he turned to face his father.  "I'm ready," he said.  _As ready as I'll ever be, at least._

*

Dalaran was sizable; it wasn't as large or grand as Silvermoon City but it came close in many respects.  In several ways it reminded Rommath of home-- the use of magic was omnipresent and the streets were filled with conjurers and mages and their familiars.  There was, of course, one very large difference between the two cities: Whereas Silvermoon was home exclusively to elves, Dalaran housed mostly humans.  There were elves here and there, of course, for Dalaran and Silvermoon had been friends for over a thousand years already and the magisters told him they would remain friends for thousands more years to come.  But most of the city's inhabitants were human, and they were a strange and unusual creature to Rommath, who instinctively shied away from them.

Rommath's older brother headed off in the direction of one of the city's libraries, where his classes were located, and then they dropped off his younger sister at her school.  And finally they reached the building where the children Rommath's age were gathered.  There were about two dozen odd students gathered here at desks, and only three or four of them were fellow high elves.  Sitting in the back was Astalor, a friend from Quel'Thalas, and Rommath breathed a sigh of relief upon spotting him.  His parents had reassured him that he wouldn't be alone and at least they were right on that count.  Hastily he bid his father goodbye and then rushed to the back of the room, where he slid into a desk adjacent to Astalor's.

Astalor was about a year older than Rommath and as such he had already filled out some.  He was taller, his voice was a bit deeper, and most importantly his blond eyebrows were long and delicate.  He raised one now as he said, "I see you're finally getting your brows."

"Don't _even_ start."

Astalor chuckled, but didn't have a chance to say more because now their teacher arrived and got right to work with his lecture.

The lecture was boring; it was about the history of Dalaran and the surrounding area and Rommath knew most of it already.  Still, he dutifully took notes with a quill pen.  He had always been a good student, and he didn't intend to begin disappointing his parents now, new school or no.  He was in the middle of his note-taking when he heard someone to the side of him whispering at him, apparently trying to get his attention.  Rommath ignored the voice at first, but the whispering intensified.  "Psst.  Hey!  Knife-ear!"

... _knife-ear?_

Rommath turned to face the speaker, a human boy who was bigger and older than him.  He had hardly turned when he was hit with a wad of paper that the boy chucked at him, and he opened it to reveal a highly unflattering caricature of himself, complete with bushy, unkempt eyebrows.

Upon seeing the picture Rommath's ears immediately began to burn, and this just caused his tormentor to chuckle at him even more.  And this, suddenly, filled him with contempt.  Who was this human?  How _dare_ he mock him!  Did he not know who Rommath's family was?  Without thinking Rommath stood up, suddenly, and cast a spell.

The boy promptly turned into a sheep.

The entire class turned to gape and giggle, and the teacher, mortified, quickly reversed the spell and then called for order.  "Order!  Order!  There will be no pranks in this class, magical or otherwise.  And _you_.  Rommath, is it?  I will see you after class.  Alone."

Rommath's ears were still red, and he knew he was in trouble now, but at least he felt satisfied.  That human boy would never mess with him again.

*

It was after class and Rommath was cleaning the chalkboards.  It was boring work that involved magical manipulation of rags and water, which was something he had already mastered-- for the most part.  Wringing the rags out into a bucket still required a little bit of concentration.

He had been firmly told off by his teacher, although he was now alone in the room.  Magical wards had been set that would not be lowered until Rommath's busywork was complete, but honestly he was in no real hurry to finish.  He wasn't looking forward to having to face his parents.

There was a shimmer in the air and suddenly Astalor appeared in front of him in a puff of purplish arcane residue.  "I saw the wards and figured you'd still be in here," he explained at Rommath's questioning look.  "Good thing they made it so people can still teleport in, if not out."

"Here to laugh at me?" Rommath yawned.  He was sitting at a desk with his cheek cupped in a hand as he performed the menial magical work.

"I was bored," said Astalor, sitting down next to him.  "I bet we can break you out, if we both try."

"Don't bother," said Rommath.  He rolled his eyes over to look sidelong at Astalor.  He was already past that awkward phase that Rommath was going through now and his eyebrows were long and beautiful.  It bothered Rommath.  Why hadn't this all happened in Silvermoon?  He would still look terrible, true, but at least people would understand.  He looked away.  "I miss home," he said.

"Yeah.  Me too."  Astalor looked away as well.  "We're only going to be here for a few years, at least.  That's what my father told me."

One month down, three years to go, then.  And Rommath already knew that if he was going to follow in his parents' footsteps and become a magister himself, he'd likely be back later.  _The paths of every mage take them through Dalaran_ , as his father had told him earlier that year, when he'd been protesting his parents' initial announcement to him that they were moving.

But why did it have to be now?  Why couldn't it have been later, when he was grown up?  And not now, when he was...

He reached up and pulled at his eyebrows.  He hated the way they _felt_.  Scruffy and unwieldy.  Next to him, Astalor noticed his plight.  "Mine were like that too," he said.  "Give it a few months."

"Yours weren't this dark.  And you weren't surrounded by... humans."  Rommath continued to rub at his brows.

Astalor leaned forward towards him now suddenly, his blue eyes glistening.  "Wait.  Rom.  What if we used magic to speed up their growth?"

Rommath turned now to face him.  "Would that even work?"

"I don't see why it won't!  I knew a girl back in Silvermoon who had a spell to make her nails grow.  I bet it's similar."

Rommath wasn't sure about the idea.  He and Astalor were both skilled for their age-- a side effect of being from prominent magister families and having access to the best scholars in Quel'Thalas almost before they could talk.  But they were still children and amateurs, and he knew it.  "But what happens if it doesn't work right?"

"Then we reverse it."

It seemed logical enough.  And surely a spell like this was simple?  "Okay," he said finally.  "Do you know the spell?"

"Of course I do," said Astalor.  "Here.  Hold still."

So Rommath magically set down the rag that had been cleaning the chalkboard and sat still, facing his friend.

And in front of him Astalor spoke a brief cantrip and made a few motions with his fingers.  Then he paused and the two elves were quiet, waiting, and then Astalor gasped.  "It's working!"

"It is?" Rommath reached up and felt his eyebrows; sure enough they were longer and smoother than they had been just minutes earlier.

"Yes!" Astalor exclaimed.  "I told you this was a good idea."

Rommath jumped up and rushed for a mirror on the wall; he was very pleased to see that his eyebrows were now a long, elegant, and respectable adult length.

...and still growing.

Quickly he turned to face Astalor.  "Okay!  It's done!  Make them stop!"

The color drained from Astalor's face.  "Uh..."

"You... you don't know the spell to stop it?" Rommath actually squeaked this out, his vocal cords reminding him at this inopportune moment that they, too, were growing up.

"I... I thought they would stop on their own!" Astalor sputtered.

Rommath turned to look back in the mirror, despairing.  Longer and longer his eyebrows grew, and at this rate they'd actually be touching the floor before he knew it.  This was even worse than things had been when they'd started!  Desperately he reached back into his depths of his brain and pulled out some old spellwork he'd learned.  If he matched this word with _that_ , then maybe...

He spoke a few words and snapped his fingers.  That did the trick.  His eyebrows finally stopped growing, although they now looked utterly ridiculous.  He closed his eyes.  "Remind me again why I listen to you, Astalor."

Astalor was already chortling, though.  "Come on, Rom.  You're still better off than you were before.  Just cut them to whatever length you want.  Here."  He took some scissors from a desk and walked up to Rommath, handing them to him.  Rommath took them rather forcefully and snipped his brows to what he thought was a decent length.  He then spent a few minutes snipping them a bit more, one at a time, as each time he made a cut he just seemed to make them uneven again.  Soon enough he was essentially back to where he started, with bushy, unkempt brows that couldn't decide how long they wanted to be.  He sighed despite himself.

Astalor sat himself back down.  "Wanna try it again, now that we know how to stop it?"

"No."

Astalor said nothing, but then Rommath turned to look at him and smirked.  "Butthole."

Astalor smiled back.  "Here, I'll help you finish cleaning up."

*

Rommath was terrified as he peeked into his father's study.  Just as he'd expected, he had been summoned there as soon as he'd arrived home late.  His father was standing with is back to him and his arms behind him, still in his archmage robes.  "Ah, Rommath.  Come in," he said without turning around.

Rommath did so tentatively, carefully closing the door behind him.  He couldn't tell from his father's voice how upset he was, and he was not looking forward to finding out.

His father was speaking again now, still not looking at him.  "Your teacher has informed me that there was an incident at school today.  Care to tell me what happened?"

Rommath gulped and took a few steps closer.  "A human boy was calling me names and... making fun of me," he said.

"Is that so?  How did you react?"

"I..." Rommath heard his voice squeaking again, so he paused to cough and clear it.  "I turned him into a sheep," he admitted finally.

And it was only now that Rommath's father turned to look at him, and although his expression was serious, it was clear that there was a smile itching at the corners of his lips.  "You... _polymorphed_ him?"

"Yes, father."  Rommath looked down at the ground.  His ears were burning again.  Drat his ears.  They always gave him away.

And now his father approached and put a gentle hand on his shoulder.  There was a time just a year or two ago when he would have leaned down on his knees to talk to him, but Rommath was taller now, and for a moment father and son looked each other in the eyes.  "My son," he said, "This move hasn't been easy.  Dalaran is different from what we knew in Silvermoon.  It will take some getting used to.  But if there is anyone who I know can look these changes head on, square his shoulders, and walk straight into them, it is you."

Rommath's heart swelled.  Praise was not something he had been expecting, but here he was getting it.  "I... will do my best to make you proud," he said.

"I know you will," said his father.  Then he narrowed his eyes with curiosity.  "Did you do something with your eyebrows?"

"M... maybe," Rommath admitted.

And now his father actually did smile.  "Don't be in such a hurry to grow up," he said.  "You have enough challenges as it is at your age.  Don't add to them prematurely."  He patted him on the shoulder.  "Well, I won't keep you.  I'm sure you have studies."

Rommath nodded and quietly left the room. Somehow he felt that things were going to be okay.

*

"You didn't even get in trouble?" It was the next day and with a few moments before class actually began, Astalor was grilling his friend.

"Nope," said Rommath.  He was smug.  Granted, he was sure he would get in trouble if it happened _again_ , but that was beside the point.

"Wow," said Astalor.  Then a mischievous glint formed in his eyes.  "So, I've been practicing that spell..."

"Shut up," said Rommath, and they both laughed.

**Author's Note:**

> This is based off a tumblr post I made where I speculated that elf eyebrows start growing at puberty. Said speculation promptly turned into this fic.
> 
> http://pikestaff.tumblr.com for more dumb elf headcanons and posts where Pike pines after stupid sexy fictional grand magisters


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